


After the Hospital Wing

by VentoSereno



Series: Vignettes [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, F/M, Finally, Resolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-01 03:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13989198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VentoSereno/pseuds/VentoSereno
Summary: Finally, some resolution.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I think titles may not be my strong suit.  
> Also, I love a knock on the door. A classic plot device for me, apparently.
> 
> **Update: I've edited this first chapter to include a short PoV from Remus, as it didn't quite work as a second chapter. An actual second chapter will be up soon!**

Tonks walks away from the Hospital Wing, feeling more defeated than she’s ever felt before, more defeated than she ever thought she could feel. 

Dumbledore is dead, leaving a terrible, leaden weight inside of her. 

Coupled with it is the knowledge that his death is only part of the reason why she feels so tired, so flat, so devastated.

She begins to descend the stairs, her pace quickening. If her feet can only speed up fast enough, she might be able to drown out the thoughts inside her own head, and she won’t have to relive her dramatic confession by Bill’s bedside.

Tonks is almost running out of the door now. She would seem crazy, if there was anyone left to see her. Apparently she doesn’t run away from Death Eaters or flying curses. She does run away from humiliating social situations, though.

She thinks of her bed, which makes for a nice change in focus. Once there, she will be able to lie down, and think straight.

Running full pelt, she reaches the gates, and disapparates. She doesn’t see or hear Remus chasing after her.

* * *

Remus watches a sad, dejected-looking Tonks make her goodbyes and leave the Hospital Wing, her hands cradling her elbows. She doesn’t look at him. 

His eyes follow her down the length of the ward, watching as she slips between the double doors and disappears. He feels Arthur and Molly staring at him, urging him to go after her.

His own heart beats the same, insistent rhythm. 

Without thinking he stands and walks out, without a goodbye or even a look to the others. 

He catches sight of her out on the staircase. She’s already two floors down.

He begins to follow, unsure of what he is doing, or what he will say when he catches up with her.

Everything seems uncertain, now. 

But in a world where the impossible has happened, she may be the only thing left that makes any sense. 

* * *

Tonks is lying on her bed now, but the clarity of mind she thought would come eludes her. She’s tired, so tired, but sleep eludes her too. 

She sits up, and draws a piece of parchment towards her. She wants to scribble out all of her confused thoughts and feelings but even that feels like an insurmountable obstacle right now. 

She lies back down and closes her eyes.

She does not want to think about what will happen to the Order and to the rest of the magical community, now Dumbledore’s dead.

No. She can't focus on anything but what tonight means for her and Remus. She feels a decision coming, a desperate need to change something, anything, about their situation. The feeling has been brewing for weeks, or maybe even months now.

She's not an especially romantic or dreamy person. Yes, she is in love with Remus. But is she blind to the difficulties a life with him could entail? No. Does she think that like in all tales of true love, she will wait for him forever, and never love again? No. 

Realistically, if he does not change his tune, and soon, her thoughts and eventually her feelings will change. It’ll take time, and the heartbreak isn't over, but she will get better. She will move on. She will find someone else.

Tonight, or really this morning, feels like as good a time as any to draw that line in the sand. Time to move onwards and upwards.

It has been difficult, and at times downright humiliating. But she cannot criticise herself for not giving it her all. She’s laid the gauntlet at his feet countless time, lobbed hundreds of balls into his court. Tonight, as her final party trick, she’s revealed her unrequited love to a roomful of their friends and colleagues.

 _No more,_ she thinks. _No girl could have done more._

These thoughts are sad but they are comforting, in a way. Holding onto hope has been more painful and tortuous by far. 

_He will be pleased,_ she thinks.

She wonders what form their relationship will take now, if any. She thinks it probably won’t.

Nymphadora Tonks is thinking stoic, brave thoughts of how detached she will be when she sees him next, when she hears a knock at her door.

* * *

It’s him. She knows it’s him, though she could not explain how.

It's him and her heart sings.

Tonks catches herself just in time. She will not throw herself at her door at breakneck speed and open it wide. No. He can wait. She steadies herself with a breath and moves towards the door calmly, trying to think cool, aloof, ice queen thoughts.

He is there. He’s still covered in dust from the battle, his robes singed and ripped in places, half his greying hair plastered to his head. What a sight they must make together.

They stand there and consider one another in silence. She’s damned if she’ll break and say something first. He’s sought _her_ out. She did _plenty_ of talking back at the hospital wing. Let him do or say something first, for once.

He asks softly if he can come in. She nods and moves aside to admit him.

He’s been to her room at the Hog’s Head before, but he makes a pretence of looking around it, like there is anything remotely worthy of note. There is not. 

She closes the door softly. All of a sudden, she’s too tired. For this, for all of it. What’s the point? She can’t bear the thought of talking, always more talking, the same words buzzing around and around them, not making any sense. How much longer can they do this?

Not much longer. She has drawn her line in the sand, even if it is only a metaphorical one in her own mind.

She intends to walk back to bed and lie down, but suddenly he’s intercepted her, and his mouth has crashed down on hers. She’s shocked, at first, but almost before she’s aware of it her arms are around him, and she’s kissing him back with the same fervour. He’s holding onto her as if he is drowning, and she never wants him to let go, lines in the sand be damned.


	2. Morning

It must be mid-morning now, and a noise has awoken Tonks. She does not want to wake. She is still revelling. 

Just a few hours before, after the disastrous scene in the hospital wing, Remus had finally, FINALLY relented. He had come to her door and made love to her like a man possessed.

In the aftermath, they had talked and talked as dawn had broken over Hogsmeade, and they had both cried, and they had promised each other forever. 

Now they are curled round one another, their naked bodies warm and relaxed. She does not want the real world to intrude. She has never been so cosy in her bed at the Hog’s Head, and certainly never this happy. 

The noise comes again. In an effort to ignore it, Tonks turns towards Remus. Her heart skips a beat as she takes him in. 

Remus is soundly asleep beside her, one of his arms wrapped snuggly around her, the other thrown casually behind his head. He looks so carefree, so young when he sleeps. All the lines on his face are relaxed. His hair is delightfully dishevelled, and the sheets are twisted tantalisingly around him. 

She almost laughs out loud from the sheer miracle of it. She is happy. So happy. She leans forwards and kisses him.

* * *

Some idiot is still knocking at her door. Her kiss has woken Remus and he is now responding enthusiastically.

For a while the noise seems to stop, but they barely notice, lost in one another.

They can’t fail to notice when the noise returns, upgraded to a more persistent banging, accompanied by Proudfoot calling her name.

“TONKS! Are you in there? Are you alright girl?”

Tonks looks to the door, and groans. “Go away.” she whispers softly and Remus chuckles, kissing a blazing trail down her neck.

“Yes, Proudfoot. I’m alright. Was trying to get some shut eye, mate.” 

She expects this to be the end of it. It is not.

“Tonks, open the door. I need to make sure you’re ok”.

Tonks frowns, puzzled, and Remus stops his tantalising kisses to quirk an amused eyebrow at her. He then leans in to nibble on her earlobe in a most distracting manner and she shifts away from him, smiling.

“Not now, Proudfoot. I’ll see you later” she calls.

_Now that should be the end to it._

It’s not.

“Tonks, look. I’ve heard what happened last night…about Dumbledore. I can’t believe it. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help. Are you sure you’re ok?” Then, more softly “Please, let me in.”

She’s annoyed now. When has she ever let Proudfoot into her room? Why is he doing this today of all days, when she finally has Remus in her bed as well as in her heart?

“I said no, not now. Please stop shouting at me through my door. I will see you later”.

A silence.

“I heard what happened with Remus up at the hospital wing”

_How does Proudfoot hear of these things? Who are his sources?_

“Tonks, I’ve told you once if I’ve told you a thousand times. You are much too good for that... _beast_. If you’re in there, crying your eyes out over some werewolf without a sickle to his name or a hope of a better life...”

But the rest of his diatribe is cut off as Remus shifts out from underneath her, pecks her quickly on the lips, and stands up. He grabs the quilt, which has spent the best part of the morning on the floor, and wraps it round his narrow waist.

She gasps at him in disbelief – _he can’t be thinking of…?_

He quirks his eyebrow at her in silent request. 

_What the hell._ She nods.

Proudfoot is mid-flow and warming to his subject when Remus opens the door. He blocks the view into the room with his body. Proudfoot gasps audibly in surprise and takes a step back.

“Good morning.” says Remus pleasantly, as if he is in the habit of answering other people’s doors, half-naked, at ungodly hours. “Tonks would rather not come to the door at the moment. Can I help?”

Proudfoot is finally at a loss for words.

“For the record, I entirely agree,” continues Remus. “She is much too good for a down-at-heel, destitute dark creature. But what can one do? The lady has made her choice. And speaking of the lady’s wishes, she has kindly requested for you to leave her alone.”

Remus waits a beat. Proudfoot shakes his head in disbelief and shrugs, turning away. 

Remus shuts the door on his retreating back, letting the quilt fall to the floor. Tonks laughs, delighted.


End file.
